2011 Prowl and Jazz Anniversary Challenges
by optimus prime 007
Summary: A collection of one shots based on a selected prompt for the Anniversary Challenge of Prowl and Jazz.  Please enjoy!
1. Week 1: Caught in the Act

**Author's notes**: This little ficlet is a bonus chapter to a previous fic for last year's P&J challenge of 30 days and 30 prompts. The specific days of the 15th (Cybertronian Heat Cycle) and 17th (The birth or start of something special) were combined to write that fic. I suggest you do so the pairings make sense and that way I wont have to explain.

Also, this post isn't on the P&J community as I missed the deadline. :( Real life interfered. By some rule I can't post it for the challenge. So I've posted it on my LJ and here. Please enjoy!

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><p>Barricade laid still, curled around Pantera, enjoying the warmth of her form pressed so intimately and snuggly against his own. He shuttered his optics closed grateful for the serenity and quiet of the morning.<p>

Of course it took less than a klick for his enforcer instincts to kick in and tell him it was _**too**_ quiet.

Normally, whenever Jazz stayed over a night the domicile was filled with the sound of young mechlets giggling and shouts of excitement. Barricade and Pantera thank Primus regularly for Jazz, and his family, to come into their lives. Especially Jazz because he's helped Prowl overcome some of his extreme shyness when his parents were unable to.

So, normally Barricade should hear his son's giggling and gentle voice by now. Prowl was notoriously an early riser and was often bribed to go back into recharge with his parents just so the rest of the home could finish recharging. However, whenever Jazz was over the pair often played in Prowl's room until Barricade or Pantera collected them for morning energon.

Reluctantly, Barricade gently extracted himself from Pantera's form and moved quietly from their berthroom. Prowl's room was closest as he was the youngest of his three offspring. Also, his door was locked in the open position because Prowl was prone to moving in his recharge and often laid on his far too sensitive winglets. Thus, Barricade or Pantera needed to hear their youngling's cries of distress so they could quickly help him.

Only to Barricade's surprise, neither Prowl nor Jazz were in the berthroom. Keeping calm, he moved to Bluestreak's room. Blue often let Prowl play with his toys whether he was here or spending the night over at Downshift and Sonata's to play with Jazz's older brother Ricochet. Only once again, there was no sign of Prowl or Jazz. Even Blue's toys were still neatly in their place, untouched.

As a precaution, Barricade checked Smokescreen's room even though Prowl knew not to go into his eldest brother's room. Smokey had entered the 'I need my privacy' stage and only Ric was allowed in his room, or Barricad and Pantera if Smokey wasn't there. Little brothers were banned regardless.

"Frag it," Barricade muttered seeing Smokescreen's room empty as well.

Then suddenly a horrifying thought raced through his processor. Barricade rushed through the hallways to weapons locker he and all other enforcers had installed in their domiciles. It was locked closed but he punched in his access code and opened it anyways. He had to be certain Prowl didn't hack the code. Little mech was too good at puzzles and figuring out codes for his age.

Relief flooded him when his weapons were charged to capacity and exactly as he left them.

And as he was locking it back up he heard a clanking noise followed by quiet giggling. His spark was finally at ease and he smiled. With the intent on peaking in on and catching Prowl and Jazz in the act of whatever they were doing, Barricade move silently towards the kitchen where the noises were coming from. Once near the door, he stopped and leaned over just enough to peer into the room.

His optics widened at the mess!

Blue and white powdered was all over the countertops. Oily and powdered servo prints were on just about every single cabinet door. There were even oily ped prints on the floor and…Primus, the wall? And in the middle of it all were two oily and powdered mechlets working diligently over a large mixing bowl.

"How's it now?" Jazz asked quietly.

Prowl stuck his hand into the mix and then licked his fingers, thick blue and white goo dropped onto the countertop and down his chest.

"Perfect!" he smiled, his winglets fluttering with delight, specs of powered flaking off and sprinkling down. "Father and mother will love it!"

"Are ya sure ya know how to cook the energon treats?"

"Yeah. I watch mother do it all the time!"

"So…how do we cook 'em?"

"The cooking tray! I forgot!"

It was then that Barricade decided to announce his presence for the safety of the little mechlets. His intention was not to punish them but to assist. Only Prowl reacted in away that Barricade wasn't anticipating but then should have expected. His youngest son was always so sensitive.

Prowl's winglets shot up as he was startled when his saw his father move into the room. Upset that his special plan to surprise his creators was ruined Prowl immediately sat down, bowed his head and started quietly crying.

"Oh Prowl, I'm not mad at you," Barricade chuckled, lifting his little mechlet up and holding him close to his spark. "I just didn't want you or Jazz accidentally hurting yourselves making energon goodies."

"But my surprise is all ruined," Prowl hiccupped, trembling.

"Not completely," he smiled, lifting Prowl's chin up so he could see into his son's large deep blue optics. "I appreciate it very much and I know your mother is going to love it. It is her sparkday after all."

"So, we're not in trouble?" Jazz timidly asked, sitting on the counter trying to be as small as he could be.

"No, you're not in trouble this time. However, I will ask that you little mechs do not do this unless one of your brothers help you. You're both still too young to cook energon treats."

"What 'bout mixin' 'em?" Jazz asked, smiling holding the spoon.

Barricade tried not to cringe to badly when the gooey mixture splattered on the counter and wall. He just couldn't find it in his spark to get angry at Prowl or Jazz because they always mean well.

"Well, perhaps some lessons on being more tidy would prove beneficial," Barricade smiled and set Prowl back down on the countertop. "How on Cybertron did you get ped prints that high up on the wall?"

"Like this!" Prowl proudly exclaimed, leaping off the counter with Jazz close behind him.

Barricade curiously watched the two mechlets. Jazz moved close to the wall while Prowl moved to the opposite wall, grinning. Then Prowl took off running across the room and used Jazz's hands as a launch pad. Two quick steps up the wall and he pushed off, doing a back flip and then landing on his peds.

"Jazz can get higher, wanna see?" Prowl asked excitedly.

"Perhaps later," Barricade smiled. "And I think it best that such acrobatics be performed outside only."

"Yes, father," Prowl replied bowing his head realizing he'd done something wrong.

The big mech sent nothing but pulses of his love and affection for his youngest son. Pantera often said Barricade could never find it in his spark to punish Prowl no matter what the mechlet did. She was right. But then Prowl never did anything too bad that warranted punishment. And when he did his spark was always in the right place.

"I love you too father," Prowl grinned, hugging his father's leg as tight as he could.

"Alright then, lets cook some energon treats!"

"Yay!" Jazz cheered.

"Shh!" Prowl exclaimed, covering Jazz's mouth.

"Oh, sorry," Jazz mumbled, then covered Prowl's mouth. "Ya have to be quiet too!"

"You both need to be quiet so we all don't get caught in this mess!"

Both mechlets laughed heartily.

'Cade?' Pantera questioned over his bond. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing. Just our youngest son being adorable as ever. Stay on the berth so you don't ruin his surprise. And yes, I will clean up the mess.'

'Make sure you get it off the ceiling too.'

'Uh?' Barricade questioned, looking up and seeing globs of treat mix hanging precariously from above.

Barricade groaned, feeling his bondmate's amusement within his spark.


	2. Week 2: Soon our duet will be a trio v1

**Title:** Welcome to the Family

**Prompt: **Soon their duet will become a trio  
><strong>Universe:<strong> G1 AU  
><strong>Rating:<strong> pg  
><strong>Characters: <strong>Prowl, Jazz, Bluestreak  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> fluff and laughs  
><strong>Summary: <strong>Prowl wonders if his family of two is ready for another member.

**Interesting trivia**: I'm sure many of you know this but I only recently discovered it while listening to an episode of Startrek the Next Generation. The Far Point Episode to be exact. I heard a voice that sounded like G1 Prowl and GI Joes Duke from the same time period (I watch both back to back on the HUB). Sure enough the actor name Michael Bell was in the STNG episode who happened to do many voices, including G1 Prowl and GI Joes Duke. He also did Sideswipe. Hehe. Anyways, it was just something I wanted to share!

**AN: **I try not to do the obvious for challenges. Not sure how this actually turned out.

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><p>Prowl nervously stood in the doorway, optics anxiously observing his son recharging deeply. So many questions raced through his processor about his little mechlet. Was he old enough to understand? If he understood would he accept the potential life changing event with his usual enthusiasm? Or would he react stubbornly, like he sire was well known to be, and reject it?<p>

With a sigh, the normally stoic enforcer moved away and headed to his own room to recharge. Or attempt to recharge. Prowl's processor was too active to shut down for recharge and he knew he would have to do something to calm his thoughts first. So he picked up the datapad he kept in a drawer near his berth and activated it.

A sad smile spread across his faceplates as a tender white finger affectionately traced the face of the silver lithe femme in picture. Silverstar was the partner assigned to him in Polyhex during an enforcer exchange program for young mechanisms in the force. She was quick witted with and even quicker vocal processor. The femme loved to talk and had made it her goal in life to make the too serious Praxian enforcer smile and laugh.

She did much more.

She captured his spark.

Prowl thought life couldn't get any better the jour she told him she was with spark. It was quite the accident but the couple took it in stride as they did everything else. They had already been discussing the issue of bonding and where they wanted to live and raise a family, Praxus or Polyhex. With the sparking on the way, Prowl had made the decision to ask for a permanent transfer to raise their sparkling in Silverstar's native city.

Then Prowl's world was shattered the a few jours before their bonding ceremony. He had been on duty breaking in a new partner. Silverstar was on leave because of the sparkling she was carrying. They were short on supplies in their domicile so she'd walked to the little shop down the street and walked in on a robbery taking place.

The femme was as dedicated to being an enforcer as Prowl, taking their oath to serve and protect to spark. The thief was young, inexperienced, and with a weapon. Silverstar had actually talked the youth into turning himself in and handing her the weapon. He was about to hand it over when a patron had rushed in, being late for work, with the intent of getting some warm energon to go and had startled the youth.

To this jour, Prowl still can't recall what his Commanding Officer had said to him. He simply raced through Polyhex as fast as he could to the medical center where Silverstar had been taken only to arrive too late.

The femme he loved more than life itself was lost to him. The weapon had discharged and pierced her spark. She was gone before they arrived at the medical center. Thanks to the shop's owner, who had known her and Prowl so well, the medics knew about the sparkling she was carrying.

Bluestreak was born two orns premature.

Prowl was able to hold his son for a few moments after his birth before the medics placed the tiny sparkling into a specialized sparkling berth container designed to aid in a premature sparkling's development. And Prowl was there at the medical center every jour until the jour he was able to take Bluestreak home. Each jour fellow enforcers came to visit, often commenting on how the little tyke had Silverstar's face. Prowl never argued with them for it was true.

When Bluestreak was a full vorn Prowl's spark couldn't stay in Polyhex any longer. There were too many memories. So many street corners or shops that reminded him of Silverstar every single jour. And so Prowl returned to Praxus and the original station he had been assigned before Polyhex. Most of the same mechs and femmes that were there before were still there when he returned, including his old partner. And all of them had known what'd had happened and did their best to support Prowl and his son.

As a result, Bluestreak was often seen at the station with Prowl or another enforcer. In fact the sparkling's first steps were taken as he used Prowl's desk for support. He often beeped and chirped nonstop to Prowl's partner, Streetwise while they were working on reports at the end of their shift. He even purged on the Chief more than once much to Prowl's mortification and his boss's amusement.

Prowl smiled brightly at another picture. This one was of him working at his desk with Bluestreak sitting on the desk's corner, mimicking his Sire perfectly down to the little crease in the forehelmplate when concentrating. Bluestreak was truly the joy of his life. Prowl looked forward to the end of every shift because of his son. Some days the little mechlet would sit on Prowl's desk playing with a favorite toy and helping his sire stack datapads. Most jours Prowl took Bluestreak to a small park and played before they headed home.

The pain of losing Silverstar never entirely went away but because of Bluestreak Prowl learned to live with it and move on. It was also because of Bluestreak that Prowl had unexpectedly fallen in love again.

It had been the worst system upset Bluestreak ever had and a scared and worried Prowl took him in the middle of the night to the nearest medical center. It was so bad Bluesteak had to be admitted and was taken to the younglings ward of the medical center. It was the next jour when Prowl had been vigilantly watching over Bluestreak when a black and white visored mech strolled into the younglings ward with a huge smile on his faceplates.

Curious, Prowl had watched as this mech sit down beside the nearest youngling, a femme, who smile and greeted the visitor with as much enthusiasm as she could muster despite her sickness. At first Prowl had thought this mech was her carrier or creator. But then the mech had moved on to the next youngling and then the next and then the next. Each youngling was his world for ever how long he sat. Sometimes he'd play with a toy other times he'd sing softly. But every time leaving a smiling youngling as he moved on.

By the time the mech had reach Prowl, Bluestreak had awakened. The visored mech had introduced himself as Jazz and said he volunteered at the medical center a couple of times a deca-cycle to help the younglings and asked if there was anything he could do to help Bluestreak. Still feeling ill, the youngling had requested Jazz sing him his favorite lullaby, one Prowl often had heard Silverstar singing to herself while she was carrying and thus he would sing to Bluestreak. Jazz had done as requested literally putting Bluestreak back to recharge.

It was then that Jazz had expressed his surprise that a Praxian would know such an old Polyhexian lullaby. Prowl had sadly explained how he knew it and ended up talking with Jazz for over breem before the visored black and white mech had to leave.

The following deca-cycle Prowl had showed up each jour at the same youngling's ward until he finally picked a jour Jazz was there and had asked the mech out for a date. Of course Jazz had accepted it and over the course of a vorn the two mechs fell deeply in love with each other.

So much in love that Prowl wanted to take the next step in their relationship. He was certain Jazz did too. The only unknown variable was Bluestreak.

"Sire?" Bluestreak yawned walking through the doorway into Prowl's room. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Blue, I'm fine," Prowl sighed, sending loving pulses of his affection over their bond and hiding away his fears. "Come on up my little scraplet."

Bluestreak giggled and quickly climbed on the berth and snuggled in his sire's arms.

"I remember that picture," Bluestreak snickered, pointing at the picture of Prowl and Jazz holding up Bluestreak between them. "It was at the Chrystal Festival and Jazz got you to dance…in public."

"And dance quite well despite my two left peds," Prowl added.

"Nah, you're a good dancer!"

"Thank you, you're vote of confidence boosts my ego tremendously," Prowl chuckled as Bluestreak took hold of the datapad and cycled through the pictures.

Prowl simply hugged his son closer, listening contently to the soft hum of Bluestreak's systems and his comments whenever he paused at certain pictures. Of course Bluestreak knew who his carrier was. Prowl never hid anything from Blue about his mother. It just saddened him that Blue never got the chance to know her for himself.

"You loved her very much," Bluestreak suddenly sighed as he turned the datapad off.

"Yes," Prowl replied softly, setting the datapad aside.

"You love Jazz like that too, don't you? I see the same look in your optics when you're looking at Jazz."

"You are far too perceptive for a youngling of only five vorns."

"Street says I take after you," Bluestreak smiled proudly. "Jazz too. Says I'm too smart for my own good just like you!"

"You like Jazz, don't you?"

"He's my best friend! And he's funny!" Bluestreak giggled.

Prowl decided that was the best queue for the subject he wanted to discuss and took in a deep vent.

"How…how would you like it if Jazz…if Jazz became part of our family? He would still be your friend, only he would also be more…like a caretaker…"

"You mean…Jazz can be over all the time?"

"That's part of what happens after two mechanisms bond. Only it's a bit more involved."

"Bonding…that's what you and mother didn't get to do before she died, right?"

Prowl nodded.

"It was one of the happiest jours of my life when Silverstar accepted my bonding proposal to her. It would make me just as happy if I can ask Jazz. But I will only do so if it is something you would agree with. You are my priority."

Bluestreak put on his serious face, which made him look more like Prowl. He reached over and grabbed the datapad. Prowl saw that his son brought up a picture of Prowl with Silverstar, then switched it to one of Prowl with Jazz and Bluestreak.

"So, instead of a family of two…we'd be three?"

Prowl slowly nodded, preparing himself for any kind of response from Bluestreak.

"We should go tell him right away!" Bluestreak exclaimed, leaping from the berth, then grabbing hold of Prowl's hand, attempting to pull his sire up.

"Blue, he's working late. That wouldn't be very romantic," Prowl laughed, lifting his son up.

"But if its something so important you shouldn't wait, right?"

Prowl opened his mouth to respond but found he didn't have a logical response to counter Blue's question.

"Well…if we're going to ask Jazz, you need to get shined up."

"Woohoo!" Bluestreak cheered, pumping his small hands in the air.

And so a breem later, two shined up mechs, one big and one small, entered the club Jazz owned and where he usually performed on stage singing love ballads or serving drinks at the bar telling tells or making jokes to his customers. Tonight he was just casually strolling from table to table being the charismatic host Bluestreak spotted him.

"Jazz!" Bluestreak squeaked loudly from his perch on Prowl's shoulder, his little hands holding on to the precious gift his sire entrusted him to keep safe.

"Well hey, if it isn't mah two favorite mechs in all o' Praxus!" Jazz beamed, moving to greet the pair with a chaste kiss for Prowl and tummy tickle for Blue. "Ya'll sparklie too. Good thing I have mah visor down to keep me from goin' blind!"

Bluestreak giggled, his doorwings fluttering wildly. Even Prowl laughed heartily, more out of nervousness though than Jazz's comment.

"Ok, what gives?" Jazz asked, always quick to interpret the body language of his two favorite mechs.

"I don't know what you mean?" Prowl teased, his own doorwings twitching with anticipation.

"For one, yar doorwings are flappin' as much as li'l Blue's here an' second, Blue looks like he's about to explode from something he's holdin' in!"

"Well, Bluestreak and I did come here with one objective," Prowl smiled. "Perhaps, somewhere less crowded and…quieter would be prudent?"

"My office," Jazz smirked and led them to the office door beside the bar.

Once inside the booming sound of the music was instantly muffled. Prowl took his usual seat on the soft couch and place Bluestreak on his little peds. Jazz sat down on the couch as well but kept his distance, sensing something was up between the two Praxians.

"Alright, what are ya plottin?" Jazz finally asked.

Prowl gave Bluestreak a gentle nudge.

"This is for you from us," Bluestreak grinned brightly handing over the small present.

"Thank ya so much. But ya mechs didn't have to come down here an' give me a present," Jazz blushed.

"Bluestreak said because it was something so important that we shouldn't delay and I agreed with him."

"Open it!" Bluestreak said excitedly, bouncing up and down on his peds.

"Alright, alright," Jazz chuckled.

With great care, Jazz removed the foil ribbon, lifted the small lid, and gasped rather loudly when he saw what was inside. Was that really what he thought it was?

"Jazz, it would be a great honor and joy if you would accept my proposal to bond with me and become a part of my family which includes being the kind and loving caretaker I already know you are to my son," Prowl spoke softly, deep cobalt optics full of warm affection for the mech before him.

"Wow," Jazz gasped, awestruck. He was genuinely surprised, not expecting this to happen just barely a vorn after his first date with Prowl. "I…I don't know what at say?"

"You say yes! Please Jazz?" Bluestreak pleaded, making those mechano-puppy optics Jazz never could resist. "It will make my sire very, very happy if you bond with him."

"What 'bout ya, li'l Blue? How would ya feel?"

"I would happy too!"

"Then I accept," Jazz grinned and was immediately hugged after Bluestreak climbed onto the couch and launched himself at Jazz. The visored mech wrapped his arms around the youngling, while looking at Prowl who pulled the two mechs he loved most on Cybertron into a gently loving embrace. "Primus…I love ya both so much."

"We love you too," Prowl murmured, kissing Jazz soundly on the lips.

Contently nestled between the two black and white mechs, Bluestreak smiled warmly and his doorwings fluttering happily at the thought of Jazz becoming a part of their tiny family. And then a thought suddenly occurred to him. Like many times before Bluestreak opened his mouth and voiced his thoughts.

"So how soon after you bond can I get a baby brother?"


	3. Week 2: Soon our duet will be a trio v2

**Title:** You and me with sparkling makes three?

**Prompt: **Soon their duet will become a trio  
><strong>Universe:<strong> G1 AU  
><strong>Rating:<strong> pg-13  
><strong>Characters: <strong>Prowl, Jazz  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> fluff and laughs  
><strong>Summary:<strong>Prowl feels like something's a little off with his bondmate. What could be the cause?

**AN: **My muse took control! Sorry!

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><p>Something was off.<p>

The ever calm and patiently attentive SIC could sense it. Even Prowl's doorwings had been twitching all morning like they normally do whenever the twins were plotting a prank or Optimus decided to sneak off to go for a drive without telling anyone. Only Optimus was on Cybertron visiting the femme the twins were on a mission on another continent with Ironhide, punishment for the last prank they pulled which locked the SIC's processor up. It wasn't Bumblebee, who did come up with a good prank every so often, either for he was out for the day with Spike and Carly.

That only left Jazz, the master prankster…well second master prankster as he still has yet to outdo Prowl's last prank on Prime - hence the reason why their Prime was on Cybertron, vacation being the official excuse Ratchet put on the report. The SIC wouldn't put it past his bondmate and TIC of the Ark to be scheming and plotting. Only Jazz was excellent at keeping his scheming to himself and never letting any of his deviousness to be felt over their bond.

And that's what was feeling off, Prowl finally concluded.

Jazz was desperately trying to hide it from Prowl but through his experience and knowing his bondmate as deeply as he did, Prowl could still feel Jazz's nervousness and anxiousness trickle across their bond. Well, that explained why his lover was MIA from the birth this morning when Prowl emerged from recharge. Whenever Jazz did something he was positive Prowl would be mad at him for the saboteur used his skills to make himself scarce or disappear all together for a day or so until Prowl's temper cooled.

However, Prowl wasn't mad at Jazz for anything. There was no anniversary dates in the near future and the hadn't had a mild argument during mission briefing and debriefings of late. In fact it'd been several months since they had a heated argument where both mechs stubbornly refused to see reason. Eventually for the sake of everyone's sanity and safety on the Ark, Ratchet and Optimus locked the two bondmates in a closet until the resolved their differences.

Prowl smiled at how passionate they were as they interfaced repeatedly in said closet for two Earth days. Even after so many centuries as bondmates, not counting their millions of years in stasis, he still enjoyed it when they made up after an argument. Only Jazz could make him so angry one moment and then wildly passionate the next.

Primus he loved his mech so much.

Realization suddenly set in and Prowl's spark fluttered as a possible reason for Jazz's nervousness and anxiousness towards him came to light. The probability of this particular reason was extremely high, over ninety-five percent as several past occurrences all fell into place. Not to mention this was exactly how Jazz had acted that one time. Too bad it had been a false alarm. Prowl had been looking forward to being a creator but kept it to himself as Jazz wasn't ready at that time to be a carrier.

But now, they were both older, more comfortable with themselves and their bond. A warm smile spread across his faceplates at the thought of Jazz being with spark. Prowl didn't care that they were still fighting a war. He'd do everything in his power to keep his family safe. Plus it wouldn't be the first time a sparkling had been raised on a military base.

Confident he was right, Prowl rose from his chair, leaving his unfinished work behind. Some things were more important that his duties as the SIC. Being bonded, he knew it better than any of them despite what the others thought of him. Jazz would argue with them too that Prowl wasn't a sparkless drone, nor was he a workaholic. He was simply dedicated to whatever task that needed tending to.

The current task was to find Jazz. And despite Jazz's abilities to disappear, Prowl was _**always**_ able to find his lover when he wanted to. All he had to do was focus on their bond and it would lead him to where he needed to go. And thus Prowl did exactly that while sending warm, loving pulses of affection to calm his nervous bondmate.

In a matter of minutes, Jazz appeared from out of nowhere and approached Prowl in a hallway near the recreation room.

"Neva could hide from ya," Jazz smiled fondly.

"I would have hoped that our relationship was strong enough that you never felt the need to hide from me," Prowl replied, smoothly pulling Jazz against his chassis and lovingly place his lips over his lover's. In a matter of moments the kiss deepened as the joy within Prowl's spark was bursting to be set free. "So, is there something you want to tell me?"

"Is this yar idea of interrogatin' me? Ah must admit, Ah really like it," Jazz purred in response as Prowl nuzzled his neck. "Kind of public though, even for ya."

"I have in the past expressed my feeling for you in public. I do recall proposing to you in the recreation room at Decagon. I'm just not the exhibitionist you keep trying to make me be whenever you grope my doorwings."

"Ah do not grope," Jazz countered with a smirk, reaching for one of Prowl's doorwings and stroking it enough to make the mech hugging him shudder. "Ah affectionately fondle."

"Hmm, as much as I would loved to…as the humans say, bang you against the wall here, you are trying to distract me to keep from answering my question," Prowl replied, taking both of Jazz's hands in his and kissing them slowly. "Please, my love. My spark desires to know what is troubling you and wants you to know you've nothing to fear. I love you with all my energy and more."

"Fragger, ya know Ah can't resist ya when ya sweet talk me."

Prowl chuckled and couldn't stop his doorwings from flutter with anticipation. Of course it didn't go unnoticed by his bondmate who noticed every slagging thing on the base and more so with Prowl.

"Did someone spike yar energon again? Yar actin' kind o' loopy."

"And you are still trying to avoid answering my question."

Jazz frowned then exhaled slowly indicating he was going to finally reveal what's been troubling him.

"The other day Ah was listenin' to the radio wit' Blasta when they announced that tickets had just gone on sale for one o' our favorite bands - a one time only concert before they break up and go their separate ways. In our exuberance we simply bought our tickets an' didn't even pay attention to the date. The concert isn't for another six months but…its on our bonding anniversary. Ah know the day is important to us an' I promise ya Ah'm all yars for most of the day. And Ah was hopin' ya'd let me go to the concert that night. Blasta even convinced Jetfire to fly us there so Ah could spend as much time wit' ya before we had to leave. So Ah guess, Ah'm askin' for permission to go."

Prowl never felt so deflated in his entire existence. Throughout Jazz's entire explanation Prowl's doorwings slowly lowered until they were now flat against his back. His hands even let go of Jazz and his arms were slack at his side.

How could he have been so wrong?

"Prowl, are ya ok? Ya don't look so good."

"I'm fine Jazz," Prowl replied, forcing a smile. "It sounds like you have the day planned already. I'll be happy to spend a portion of the day with you and allow you to go to the concert."

"Alright, who the frag are ya an' what've ya done with my Prowler?"

"Nothing, I just….it's nothing," Prowl smiled, caressing Jazz's face.

"Prowl, talk to me," Jazz seriously and tenderly said, wrapping his arms around Prowl's waist, pulling him closer.

"It's stupid really," Prowl mumbled, reaching up and stroking Jazz's chest over his spark.

"Maybe. Maybe not. It's something important to ya. Ah can feel that. Tell me babe."

"I just thought…with you being so nervous and anxious to approach me…I thought…well, I thought maybe you were with spark."

Jazz stared for a long moment and then burst into a hearty laugh. Prowl stood there, knowing the moment would soon pass. It always did. It just depended on when Jazz realized his bondmate wasn't making a joke and being serious. Thankfully for Prowl's pride this was one of those times it didn't take long.

"Ya really want a sparklin', dontcha?"

Prowl nodded and then suddenly heard and felt a loud clank to the side of his helm.

"No way in pit are you two having a sparkling while I'm the CMO!' Ratchet's voice roared just as everything for Prowl went dark.

It was some time later, six hours according to his internal chronometer, Prowl emerged from his flying wrench, forced recharge. First thing he was aware of was how much his processor ached. Second, was the warm body pressed intimately close to him while an a firm, affectionate hand stroked his chest.

"Remind me to toss our cranky CMO in the brig later," Prowl groaned, rubbing his helm.

"Don't worry Ratch. The guys took care o' him. I believe Wheeljack and Percepter had some very creative uses for adhesives and magnets. Mirage and Hound took all the wrenches away and hid them in the forest. Last I heard Grimlock and the dinobots were having an Easter egg type hunt for them now."

Prowl chuckled, wrapping his arms around Jazz and nuzzling his lover's helm with his own.

"Apparently, they all seemed to think a sparklin' on the Ark would be a good idea. Ah'm inclined to agree. An' if it mean's so much to ya, I'm all for tryin' to make a sparklin."

"Really?"

"I felt that joy from ya. Ah want to feel it again when we are wit' spark. Plus, Ah'm all for makin' Ratchet's life a living pit right now. We were havin' such a lovely moment in the hallway an' he had to go ruin it."

"Wait, how many others saw us?"

"All those not on duty. Ah was shocked they were able to keep so quiet!"

"I take it that means we already have volunteers for sparkling sitters," Prowl deduced.

"Yup. Even Optimus volunteered when he checked in. He's comin' back sooner than expected. Apparently, Elita over head the news about the sparkling and wants one of her own now."

"But we can't have one now."

"Why not?"

"Because you wont be allowed to leave the base once you're with spark. Which means you wont be able to go to the concert."

"Prowl, babe, it's only a concert," Jazz seriously said, then patted his chest. "Ah want this as much as ya do. So I gave my ticket to Blasta to take whomever his spark desires. Plus, Blasta will get the best recordings of the audio for me. Besides, do ya think Ah'm really gonna pass up an opportunity to make Ratchet's life a living pit?"

"That would be desirable," Prowl smirked. "I do owe him for hitting me in the head with a wrench."

"That's my mech!"

"And _**you**_ are mine," Prowl purred, rolling over and pinning Jazz to the berth, claiming him with a passionate kiss.


	4. Week 3: Lord Jazz, Slave Prowl

Vorn a Cybertronian year, Orn a Cybertronian month, Jour a Cybertronian day,

**Title**: Couldn't think of one :(  
><strong>Prompt<strong>: Lord Jazz, Slave Prowl  
><strong>Universe<strong>: G1 AU  
><strong>Rating<strong>: pg-13  
><strong>Characters<strong>: Prowl, Jazz  
><strong>Warnings<strong>: some angst and later some silliness or fluff  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Kind of what the prompt suggest. Real life interfered. And I ran out of time so I couldn't get the darn fic to end right. Its crap. Read at your own risk.

* * *

><p>It was two vorns ago this jour that Prowl's body had been pulled from the rubble on the outskirts of Praxus by scavengers. The fact that he was mostly alive proved to be more profitable for them so his life was spared. Staring at the scratched up armor on his servos and arms, a part of him wished he'd died with the countless others when Praxus was attacked. At least he would have died doing his job.<p>

To protect and serve.

The desire was still in his spark so he did what he could to help those in the same predicament as him. On a number of occasions he saved another's life. And through various other actions had proved himself an honorable mech, earning the respect of the mechs he felt responsible for.

Such a shame he would never be rewarded for such actions.

Who knew that all his hard training to be one of the elite Enforcers of Praxus would have been a valuable commodity in part of today's Cybertron. Who would have believed that the skills he used to apprehend numerous criminals would be a form of entertainment for the many Lords that congregated to Kaon.

The gladiator games proved to be a most profitable business. From the lowliest worker mech to a Lord bets were won or lost on each match. The more entertaining and gruesome the match the more credits exchanged hands.

And in the death matches that took place deep within Southern Kaon's top gladiator ring, Prowl was the mech to bet on. It didn't matter the size or the quantity of the opponents. Only a fool would bet against his fighting prowess. For nearly two vorns the Praxian has been undefeated. His owner, a cruel and cunning mech named Swindle, used Prowl to whatever extent he could to make as much of a profit as possible. Whether it be pics with younglings or the fulfillment of a femme or mech's desires in the berth, Swindle made sure to cash in.

Prowl knew he had to comply for Swindle learned quickly how to keep his slave in line. Prowl could easily take the death threats and the beatings. He was prepared to face death when it claimed him. His sense of duty to defend the other slaves owned by Swindle made him vulnerable and the crime Lord capitalized on it. Prowl knew the mech wouldn't hesitate to kill one of the others if he disobeyed. So no matter how degrading the task Prowl obeyed his Lord.

One time one of the newer slaves asked him why he did that to himself when he could just end it all by dying in the ring. Prowl simply told him 'To Protect and Serve' and then walked away. Any mechanism that knew an Enforcer knew they took their oath to spark and would die to full fill it.

Besides, it wasn't like Prowl was blindly obedient. He was eternally patient, keenly observant, and highly intelligent. Biding his time was all he could do for now. He knew the jour would come when he could lead the others to freedom. It was simply a matter of time.

Or so he had to keep reminding himself.

Each passing jour it was getting more difficult.

The interfacing with various mechs for femmes that wanted some fantasy fulfilled didn't bother him as much as the deaths. So many died because of his actions. Their energon could never be washed entirely from his frame.

He knew long ago he would never be rescued by his friends. Most had perished in Praxus. Those outside of Praxus probably assumed he died with the other Praxians. Most civil Cybertronians probably didn't even know this world in Kaon existed. And something told Prowl his jours were numbered by something he overhead Swindle say to another Lord.

War was coming closer to Kaon.

Logically after the assault on Praxus war over all of Cybertron was inevitable.

Death was inevitable.

At times Prowl felt like his infinite patience was a curse.

The peds of two guards suddenly appeared just beyond his white servos, interrupting Prowl's somber musings.

"Come with us, slave. Lord Swindle wishes to speak with you."

Without a word, Prowl nodded and gracefully stood, keeping his head bowed and doorwings flat against his back to show submission as he followed. He learned the hard way during his first few deca-cycles in captivity that the guards would punish any Praxian slave by beating their doorwings. While exceedingly helpful in hand to hand combat at assisting in the anticipation of an opponent's attack, when struck the pain could be crippling depending on the intensity of the blow or the mech. Prowl's doorwings were among the most sensitive he ever encountered amongst many Praxians. As a result, he learned to endure the pain in order to survive.

"About fragging time! Get him cleaned up!" Swindle snapped. "And quickly!"

Hurriedly, several of Swindle's personal attendants - femme slaves - pulled Prowl into the wash racks used by the guards. Having gone through this ritual before the Praxian held a relaxed stance while the femmes bathed him in a not so gentle manner. After all he was merely a slave so why be gentle.

"You know the drill. Do your job the others will be unharmed," Swindle said, flicking a speck of dust off his chest plating. "And do it well. This idiot was willing to pay a million credits to buy you. I told him to frag off. I could make a million from your fights alone in two orns. So he compromised. You're his slave for three jours. You will do whatever he asks, short of killing yourself. If the fragger wants a sparkling then you'd better give him one because he's willing to pay higher twenty percent higher than the normal interfaces you've provided. Only he's only paying half up front. He'll pay the remaining balance in full only if he's satisfied. So frag him senseless if you must. Understand, slave?"

"I understand," Prowl replied in his usual monotone voice.

"Make sure he shines like new and use the red cloak with black trim."

"Yes, my Lord," one of the femme servants replied.

"This Lord will be repeat business if you perform well," Swindle continued. "He's got a reputation for staying in one location and spending his wealth to no end. I plan on taking as much as he's willing to give."

Prowl's face was suddenly jerked up so he could see the intensity in Swindles green-yellow optics.

"If you fail me, I will kill the six Praxian slaves," the mech growled.

Prowl's optics flared and a small growl slipped from his vocal processor. At which, Swindle retaliated by grabbing and yanking down hard on one of Prowl's doorwings and twisting it, dropping the black and white mech to his knees.

"Know your place, slave! Do what I tell you and the others will be safe. Disobey me and you know I will make their deaths _**extremely**_ painful and make you watch every agonizing moment of them!"

And like the Lord Swindle was released his hold and marched off.

"You have ten klicks to get him ready. I do not want this Lord waiting for his prize."

Nine klicks later Prowl found himself sparkling like he did for his graduation from the Enforcers' Academy in Iacon, kneeling on one knee with the cloak spread around him and waiting for this new Lord to collect him. He didn't have to wait long. Even with his doorwings covered he could still sense the vibrations in the floor of an approaching mech.

This mech had a particular bounce in his step almost as if to music. Nothing like the arrogant stomping of Lords like Swindle. This Lord was light on his peds but not so light that he was small like a minibot. Prowl could also detect the mech did have a bit of weight in his pedfalls.

Prowl lowered his head even more as the mech slowed down on his approach until he came to a stop behind Prowl.

For the longest of moments the Lord said nothing. The Praxian remained still as stone. It was not his place to question a Lord. And he would wait as long as possible for he would not risk the lives of his fellow Praxians. But that did not mean he was idle. His sensors continued to gather what information he could on the mech behind him.

"Do you have a name slave, or do you prefer to be called the Praxian?" a deep melodic voice resonated.

"I can go by whatever name you deem appropriate my Lord."

"The other slaves told me you were called Prowl."

"That was the name given to me up my birth."

"Then I will call you Prowl. Come with me."

"As you wish my Lord," Prowl replied and slowly rose.

Only when a lithe silver frame passed did Prowl begin to move forward. He discretely observed and confirmed what his doorwing sensors indicated. This mech was not a Lord like the others. Yet, he walked with the confidence, not arrogance, of a Lord as they made their way to the guest wing. As expected, Prowl was lead to the main berth room where this Lord's two personal servants were waiting.

"Out, I wish to be alone with the Praxian. Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, see that we are not disturbed."

"Yes, my Lord," the yellow and red mechs said.

"I mean it."

"We understand."

"Remove your cloak and spread your doorwings," the silver Lord ordered as the door locked closed.

While keeping his head bowed, Prowl immediately did as he was told allowing the soft cloak to crumple at his peds. It took a few moments to flex his doorwings out fully. He was so used to keeping them tucked behind his back for protection. Only every so often would he flare them fully during a battle to gather information on his opponent's movements.

"So beautiful," the Lord whispered, stepping closer. One black servo caressed Prowl's chest affectionately. "As beautiful as Ah rememba."

Prowl's doorwing's twitched upon the Lord's change of tone and speech. His spark fluttered as it did long ago when he heard this particular speech pattern.

"Ya can look at me."

So, perhaps all his patience had finally paid off.

Prowl dared to hope as his lifted his gaze, taking in the silver frame until his optics locked onto a glowing blue visor. The visor lifted to reveal the mech's lovely face and deep rich cobalt optics he'd fallen in love with so long ago. The mech's frame was a different color and subtly different from the black and white frame his lover used to have.

"Jazz?"

"Oh Prowler," Jazz whispered, unable to hold back, throwing himself into the Praxian's arms. "Ah didn't want at believe ya had died when Praxus was destroyed. Ah looked for ya….all alone through my tears. Ah just didn't want to believe ya were killed so senselessly. Ah was found by the Autobots when Ah accepted the fact that ya were gone from my life forever. Ah joined them to take my revenge against those who destroyed Praxus. Ah couldn't sing anymore. My inspiration was gone."

"Oh, Jazzy," Prowl murmured, holding the mech close, wiping away Jazz's tears. His arms trembled as his processor still tried to comprehend how this mech could be in his arms right here, right now.

"It was durin' an undercover mission Ah learned 'bout how neutrals were makin' credits sellin' frame parts from the ruins of Praxus. Ah nearly purged my tanks when Ah heard how they were desecratin' Praxians. Then Ah learned how they had actually pulled survivors out of the Praxus ruins an' sold them off to the highest bidder! Ah was so slagged off!"

"Ah enlisted the Prime's help to rescue any slave, especially the Praxian ones. At the time Optimus didn't want to risk it. Too many unknown variables. We didn't know how many or where any of the slaves were. So Ah told 'im Ah'd get all the information he needed."

"Ah went deep undercover. Ah learned of the gladiator games an' heard of this Praxian that couldn't be beaten. My spark stilled when Ah saw a video capture of one of yar fights. Ah begged, pleaded, an' even tried to bribe Prime to at least make an attempt to rescue ya. We even knew where ya were at…over a vorn ago! But still no mission was approved. No plan was feasible. It was too risky."

"So Ah went rogue. Used the fortune Ah made from my singin' career. Changed my frame but Ah couldn't give up ma name. It became a joke when Ah introduced myself as Lord Jazz. Just told 'em my carrier loved the singer an' named me after 'im. Since Ah didn't look or sound like the singer, Ah pulled it off, made a reputation for myself. Still, it wasn't easy. Ah did things Ah'm not proud of."

"Our predicament has made us all do things we're not proud of," Prowl sighed, nuzzling the side of Jazz's helm.

"Still, it took me a vorn to get to this close to ya. It was my intention to buy ya."

"Swindle won't sell me," Prowl frowned, taking in his lover's scent, knowing how short their time was together.

"Ah know but that won't matter," Jazz pulled back and smiled, caressing Prowl's faceplates. "Optimus had sent the twins to collect me an' bring me back. It took them a while to find me but they did. They're loyal to Prime but they don't like what's goin' on either. They're gonna help. Ah told Prime to go frag 'imself if he thought Ah was gonna leave this place without ya an' told 'im to give me one jour once Ah'm with ya and we could come up wit' a plan to rescue ya an' the others."

Prowl chuckled softly, imagining the look on Prime's face when Jazz told him to frag off. To any mechanism that didn't know Jazz, they would have thought he was hot head. For those that knew Jazz, knew he was a mech of his word.

"I take it because of your powers of persuasion he gave you the time?"

"Ya know he did," Jazz smirked. A moment later his smile faded, tears welled up in his optics. "Ah…Ah want to apologize…"

"Shh," Prowl cooed, placing a finger over Jazz's lips. "There is no need to apologize. That was another life. Plus, I was being unreasonable and you were being an aft. You of all mechs know how stubborn we both are."

"Still, Ah had no right to ask ya to leave yar job in Praxus, yar home to follow me around on my tour. It was immature an' selfish."

"Ah actually thank Primus we had that argument," Prowl fondly smiled.

"Uh?"

"Because you stormed out all slagged off and left for Iacon, a deca-cycle before your tour, three jours before Praxus was razed. I thank Primus because you were spared. I knew I could die knowing you had survived. And I honestly never, ever expected to see you again."

"Ah here now an' Ah'm never leavin' ya again," Jazz said, sealing his promise with a passionate kiss.

**One orn later…**

Prowl walked serenely down the corridor. Doorwings spread out fully, head held high with pride. Chest plate decorated with his recently earned Autobot insignia. Shoulders marked with his Special Enforcer's rank once again.

A picture of pristine regality.

"Prowl!"

Said mech paused and turned at the sound of a familiar youngling's voice. A small smile formed as the young Praxian, a survivor the Autobots rescued from Praxus, raced towards him.

"Did you do it?" the youngling excitedly asked bouncing on his grey peds, winglets fluttering endlessly.

"See for yourself," Prowl replied, leaning down a bit so the young mech could see.

"Oh, wow! Congratulations! You're a real Autobot now! I can't wait! I'm gonna be one just like you too!"

"Don't become an Autobot because of me, Bluestreak," Prowl seriously said but then smiled, patting the little mech's helm. "Do what your spark desires."

"But I want to be an Autobot. You're the only Praxian Autobot I've met. I'm Praxian. So that would make me like you, right?"

"I believe you're stretching logic a bit there but you are your own mech Bluestreak. You can be whatever kind of Autobot you want."

"Ok," Bluestreak smiled brightly.

"Bluestreak! There you are you little scraplet! Get back here for your exhaust flush!"

"Oh slag! It's the Hatchet!" Bluestreak yelped, hiding behind Prowl. "Please don't tell him I cursed. He's mean!"

"It stays between us Praxians," Prowl whispered. "Now hurry up, I'll delay him."

"Thank you, Prowl," Bluestreak said then took off running.

Prowl boldly turned to face the cankerous medic known as Ratchet, Prime's personal medic and the unofficial CMO at Decagon only because the medic was still a neutral. For a neutral, the mech was more feared than most Decepticons. Yet Prowl's time as a slave made him fearless of such mechs for he knew Ratchet was a good mech at spark. If he wasn't so passionate about his job then he wouldn't care so much whenever they lost a mech or femme.

"There is one thing I've learned about you Praxians is when you're up to no good your doorwings flick about once or twice," Ratchet remarked, coming to a stop beside Prowl.

"I have been told on numerous occasions during my lifetime from my superior officers and professors that I lack the mental capacity to either perform or comprehend mischief," Prowl flatly replied. "So, I suggest your do more research on doorwing lingo before jumping to such asinine conclusions."

Ratchet stared blankly at him for a long moment before bursting into hearty laughter.

"Jazz was right. You are a smart aft. Just make sure to bring Bluestreak to my medical bay by tomorrow morning for his flush. He's managed to get out of it once this deca-cycle already. And tell that sparkmate of yours to stay out of the medical bay. The paint supply is not for the practical jokes he and those diabolical pit spawned twins love to do. Its bad enough the slagger Sunstreaker is always stealing the yellow paint cans for his touchups."

"I shall convince Bluestreak it is in his best interest to come see you. And I will endeavor to pass your message along to Jazz. Whether he pays heed to it or not, I cannot guarantee it."

"Primus in a pit bucket, you're not even an Autobot for a full jour yet and already you sound as crazy as the others!" Ratchet muttered as he marched off.

Prowl chuckled and continued on to his and Jazz's shared quarters. Once inside, he came to a dead stop and gaped as the mech displayed on the berth.

"Jazz?"

"Ya know it's me lover," Jazz purred.

"Why did you paint yourself silver?"

"Ah was in the mood for a li'l role playin'. Only, Ah'll be yar slave an' will submit to yar every desire."

"I have a better idea," Prowl warmly smiled, holding a servo out for Jazz to take. "I get you cleaned up and we both do whatever _**our**_ sparks desire."

"Ya don't like my look?" Jazz pouted.

"You do look very sleek and sexy in silver but my desire for you isn't base on your looks. It's the mech within here I fell in love with," Prowl murmured, resting a tender hand over Jazz's spark.

"Ya love me?"

"Very much so," the Praxian whispered, nuzzling Jazz's nose softly with his own. "Not even my creators or friends could persuade me differently when I first introduced you to them while I was still a student at the Enforcer Academy."

"They all said Ah was the wrong mech for ya because of where Ah was from."

"I didn't care where you were sparked. I knew what kind of mech you were. Plus, you were there in Iacon and that was all that mattered to me. And the fact that you transformed yourself into a criminal Lord and mingled with the filth of our society to find me speaks so much than words could ever describe about the mech that you are. I'm a slave to my spark's desire and it only wants you, my beautiful Jazz."

"Primus mech, ya make me wanna cry," Jazz mumbled, leaning against the strong frame of his lover. "Ah love ya so much. Ah couldn't bear the thought of losin' ya."

"I love you too. I'm yours forever and always," Prowl promised as he affectionately kissed Jazz's face and neck.

"Forever an' always…ya proposin' to me, Prowler?"

"I think we are beyond proposals."

Before Jazz could reply Prowl kissed him soundly on the lips.

"However, I would much prefer to bond with you in your true colors."

Jazz suddenly started giggling. Prowl was only mildly annoyed.

"I'm trying to be romantic here, Jazz."

"Ah know. But something ya said just struck me an' Ah couldn't help it."

"And what did I say that was so amusing?" Prowl asked, kissing Jazz.

"Ya said ya were a slave to yar spark's desire. Then ya said that Ah was yar spark's desire. So…that makes ya my slave."

Prowl made a face at Jazz that sent the young saboteur into a fit of giggles.

"Ah'm sorry, love. Ah can't help myself! Besides…" Jazz purred, revving his engine, snuggling within Prowl's embrace. "Ah'm as much yar slave as ya're mine. My spark only desires yars."

"We're both hopeless," Prowl laughed. "Which makes us perfect for each other."

"Ah agree. So…ya wanna be my slave first or want me to be the slave?"

"Let's get you cleaned up first and then we'll see what happens next."


	5. Week 4: Save me, I'm lost

**Title**: With a Little Help from My Friend  
><strong>Prompt<strong>: Save me, I'm lost (week 4)  
><strong>Universe<strong>: G1 AU  
><strong>Rating<strong>: pg-13  
><strong>Characters<strong>: Prowl, Jazz, Optimus, Ratchet, Ironhide, Blaster, Ultra Magnus  
><strong>Warnings<strong>: none  
><strong>Summary<strong>: After rescuing as many Praxians as they could after the destruction of Praxus, Optimus and Jazz realize there is so much more they need to do for the survivors, especially for one mech in particular.

* * *

><p>The Prime stood in the shadows on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. His spark weighed heavy within its chamber as he watched a lone Praxian sitting on a bench. The characteristically regal doorwings drooped in sadness. The distinctive chevron helm bowed down in remorse.<p>

This single mech symbolized the current mood of the handful of Praxian refugees that now resided at the Autobot's base Decagon in Iacon City. While the visible wounds had been mended he realized it was going to take much longer for the mental and emotional wounds to heal.

Prime had initially thought he'd provided some kind of hope for these precious few they'd rescued from the devastation of the Praxus ruins. They were his small victory. They were his vindication that the Decepticons hadn't obliterated an entire culture and people into total extinction.

How wrong he was.

Optimus would freely admit that to anyone.

He was a humble mech even during his time as just Orion before the Matrix chose him to be Prime. He was humbled even further after he'd experienced the powers of the Matrix within his own spark as it changed his physical appearance forever. He knew he wasn't he most perfect of mechs and because he was still a young Prime he knew he was going to make mistakes.

Hence his reason for having some of his closest friends as his council.

Ironhide had quickly became a dear friend when the Council had assigned him as Prime's personal body guard. Optimus learned the mech was far more than just a shield. He had been around a long time and had much to teach Optimus in the art of weaponry and the nature of mechs and femmes during a fight. Ratchet had been a family friend and his medic since he was a tiny youngling. After Optimus' parents were killed it was Ratchet who looked after him and helped to guide him into a fully mature mech. Then of course there was Optimus' younglinghood friend who had gotten him into trouble with his teachers on several occasions. But also helped him learn some of life's lessons in a way no mentor or caretaker could ever teach.

"Ya can stop beatin' yarself up, 'rion."

"How can I not? You were right, Jazz. We didn't save them at all. They're cursed with the memories of a life they've lost. I can't even give them their home back."

Jazz cleared his vocal processor, his head bowed down slightly, "Ah was exaggeratin' a bit. An' Ah was angry, but not at ya. Ya know how passionate Ah get when Ah feel so strongly 'bout somethin'."

"I know. But you were right to yell at me. You opened my optics. Seeing this young mech, made me realize that we still have so much more work to do. The question is where do we begin?"

"Wit' 'im," Jazz answered simply. "Ya'll find that Prowler's a good mech. He feels a bit lost right now, unsure what is goin' to happen to 'im. He was a Commander o' the Praxian Elite Enforcers. One o' the most honored an' hard earned ranks of the Praxus Enforcers."

Optimus raised an optic ridge at his friend.

"Ah got to know 'im a bit," Jazz shrugged nonchalantly. "He was the one mech Ah found, cryin' in what used to be the Crystal Gardens. Ah couldn't get that pained expression o' is when he told me he 'couldn't save them'. He surprised me because the Praxus Enforcers had a reputation for bein' cold sparked mechs with no more emotion than a drone. Prowler told me Ah couldn't be any further from the truth. They were simply taught to show no weakness or fear, to treat every criminal or infraction equally without prejudice. Still, he was hurtin' so Ah took 'im to the shootin' range to help 'im wit' some stress. Do ya know he broke all o' Hide's an' yar records? Most accurate. Fastest draw. Most targets destroyed. O' course Prowler had much more finesse than ya or Hide."

"You seem rather taken by him," Optimus commented.

"Ah couldn't help but reach out to 'im. Ah remember how lost Ah felt after Ah lost my creators. Their deaths hit me hard. But Ah remembered how ya came lookin' for me once ya located the city Ah'd disappeared off to. Ah can't really imagine what he's goin' through but Ah didn't want Prowler to go as far as Ah did, nearly killin' myself. He'd be lost to Primus if we let 'im."

"You always knew when to lend more than just a servo to help someone in need."

"Readin' mechs an' femmes is my gift," Jazz smiled, while pulling out a datapad from subspace. "Plus, well…Ah wanted to see things to the end wit' Prowler. He deserves it. An' knowin' ya'd come around to seein' things my way, Ah took the liberty of makin' a list of possible vocations for our Praxian residents both military an' civilian. Best to give 'em the option of remaining neutral if they want. No pressure."

Optimus chuckled, taking the datapad, "I should have known. You can be rather thorough when you choose to be, Jazz."

"Elita already volunteered to talk wit' the refugees as well," Jazz cheekily grinned, earning a glare from Optimus. "She likes ya if ya hadn't noticed."

"I know that already, Jazz."

"Ya should bond wit' 'er."

"Jazz."

"Alright, Ah'll back off. However, Ah do want to ask a favor from ya," Jazz said, his faceplates serious as he gazed over at the Praxian. "Ah know it would mean a lot to 'im if it was ya that asked 'im."

Optimus regarded his closest friend for a long moment, noting how the small black and white frame was tense despite his relaxed looking pose. He wasn't quite sure why Jazz was so keen on saving this one particular mech but Optimus decided to not question his friend's determination. Although he was looking forward to seeing how this particular friendship between Jazz and this Praxian was going to turn out.

"Consider it done."

* * *

><p>Prowl had been surprised when an Autobot guard told him the Prime requested his presence for evening energon. He of course accepted the invitation because one was never to say no to a Prime. It was an honor to be called in by your Prime.<p>

Despite how emotionally tired he felt, Prowl cleaned and shined himself up. He was a mech without a city or a people. Not even a vocation now. But he was still proud of the mech he'd become and would carry himself accordingly for his Prime.

Of course, he was curious as to why the Prime had requested his presence. He knew he was no special mech. His rank was of no use anywhere other than Praxus as it had been one of the last cities on Cybertron to use mechs and femmes as their Enforcers instead of Guardian robots.

Quite simply, Prowl was just another Praxian refugee here at Decagon.

He was reminded of it each time he thought of the family he'd lost. He couldn't put it out of his process whenever he woke up screaming from a dream where he witness his friends and others die before his very optics. Even worse was the spark ache he felt each time he saw the pity in the optics of the mechs and femmes that looked upon him.

A Praxian had never been pitied by outsiders. They were often admired either for their grace and beauty or knowledge and wisdom.

A whimpered sounded softly from his vocal processor as thoughts of his carrier and creator dancing together filled his processor. His carrier was a mech of style and grace who performed in the theatre of dance. His creator was a highly intelligent mech who served Praxus as a judge within its court systems. Yet though duty bound as he was, he always made time for family and carrier's performances. Prowl learned early on the difference between right and wrong. He also learned to enjoy what life had to offer him.

"It will get better. Ah promise."

"Jazz," Prowl sniffled, wiping a tear away, straightening up his form, although he couldn't stop the slight tremble of his doorwings. "I was thinking of my parents and how my creator would often start dancing with my carrier out of the blue simply because they loved each other. When I was little carrier often held me between them while they dance. At least until I could dance on my own. Carrier often teased me saying that I could dance before I could walk."

"Remember 'em. Cherish such memories an' ya'll always know their love within yar spark. No mech or femme can ever take that away from ya," Jazz said, placing a comforting servo on Prowl's shoulder.

"I know. Sometimes it just hits me. They're _**all**_ gone. And even though it's illogical, I feel as if I failed my city. After all, I'm an Enforcer. I'm supposed to protect and serve. Yet, I could do neither no matter how hard I tried."

"Prowl, ya're too hard on yarself. It's a miracle that ya even survived."

"But why me? Why did _**I**_ survive?"

"It jus' wasn't yar time mech," Jazz simply said.

"I was angry at you for saving me."

"What? Why?" Jazz asked, surprised.

Prowl dropped his head in shame.

"Prowl, Ah know ya feel ya didn't deserve to live. But ya have to look at the positive side. Ya _**are **_alive. Ya can _**make**_ a difference again. An' Ah know in my spark that yar creator an' carrier would love the fact that ya survived. Would they want ya to give up now?"

"No," Prowl mumbled. "But I don't know what to do. I'm Enforcer. It's all I know! I don't know how to live a civilian's life!"

Jazz smiled, "Come wit' me. Ah think Prime may have the answer for ya."

Prowl stared at the beaming smile from the other black and white mech for a long moment before finally asking, "Why do I get the impression that you arranged this meeting?"

"Ah only make suggestions," Jazz smirked, winking. "It's up to the Prime to make the decisions."

"Hmm…I'm sure your powers of persuasion can be most effective that not even a Prime can resist them," Prowl wittingly responded. "Or perhaps it was the fact that you are a close friend of the Prime and he listens to his friends."

"Dang, an' Ah was hopin' for my powers of persuasion bein' irresistible."

Prowl chuckled, "I do read the news and keep up on current events, Jazz. I read all about the surprise party you threw for the Prime and how it caused a black for a quarter of Iacon."

"Ya read 'bout that?" Jazz nervously replied.

"Yes, but I also read about how you went around to help out at several youth centers as a punishment which you gave yourself for causing it."

"Ah still visit them to this jour as well. Ah love the kids. An' Ah'm not the only one. Ah read ya volunteered often to help educate younglings on bein' safe."

Prowl blinked in surprise.

"In the past, it was required that all Enforcer records had to be filed wit' the main database in Iacon so their records could be accessed from any port o' authority from any city. Coz apparently, ya Enforcer types never really go off duty even when on holiday. Anyways, Ah felt compelled to help ya an' read yar record. Ah hope ya don't mind."

"No, I don't mind. I'm still curious why you want to help me, of all mechs."

"Once ya get to know me, ya'll understand. Now come on. Mustn't keep the Prime waitin'!"

* * *

><p>Jazz glanced, watching as Prowl checked over his armor once more. In such a short time, Jazz had come to admire the inner strength this Praxian possessed. It only seemed a rare moment when Prowl let his full emotions show. Jazz knew that if he'd lost the city he'd loved with so many family and friends he would never be able to pull himself together the way his new friend has.<p>

"Never been before a Prime before, have ya?"

"No," Prowl replied, shaking his head.

"Ya can relax. Optimus is kind an' carin' mech. He doesn't expect ya to be at the top of ya game."

"That may be true. However, from experience, first impressions are often what a bot remembers you by. Besides, isn't there some kind of protocol in place for a meeting with the Prime?"

"Probably. Ah ain't one much for protocol."

"So I've noticed," Prowl muttered dryly.

"Hey!" Jazz exclaimed, elbowing Prowl gently. The Praxian smiled for a moment before that sadness returned that Jazz hated seeing because he knew no matter how much he tried to help he could never entirely take away his friend's hurt. "What's wrong?"

"I was just thinking, how I will miss the friendship we seemed to have developed during my time here. After all, I'm probably going to be sent somewhere soon. Presumably if that's why Prime has summoned me."

"Don't worry 'bout a thing, Prowler. We'll still be friends no matter what. Ah promise ya," Jazz said in earnest as the pair of them reached Prime's private quarters.

Jazz opened the door to allow them to enter, ignoring Prowl's look of bewilderment for the moment.

"Late as usual, Jazz," Ratchet grumbled.

"The party never starts until Jazz arrives anyways, you know that Ratch," Blaster laughed.

"Ah arrive precisely when the time is right," Jazz smirked. "In this instance, we were on time. Ask Optimus."

"Jazz informed me he was behind schedule."

"I do hope I wasn't the cause of you being late," Prowl whispered to Jazz.

"Nah, mech. Had nothin' to do wit' ya," Jazz replied without hesitation. "Relax. Yar amongst friends."

"This is simply an informal gather," Optimus smiled warmly. "There are no rules of protocol in place. You are here as my guest with my closest friends."

"My apologies, Sir," Prowl said, bowing his head. "After so many vorns of following a strict protocol as an Enforcer, I cannot simply flip a switch and turn it off."

"If you ask me a little discipline around here wouldn't be such a bad idea," Ultra Magnus remarked over his high grade.

"Nah, yar just sore ya haven't caught me in the act," Jazz joked. "Ah'm a master!"

"Alright, enough," Optimus gently chided as the mechs laughed wildly. "I believe introductions are in order. Prowler, as you know I am Optimus Prime. This is my second in command, Ultra Magnus. My weapons specialist, Ironhide of whom I believe you met already. Ratchet as you know as well. Blaster head of communications. And I'm sure you know Jazz, my head of operations. It is an honor to meet you in person, Prowler."

"It's just Prowl, Sir," the Praxian gently interjected.

"Excuse me?"

"Despite various attempts to correct Jazz, he still deems it necessary to call me 'Prowler'," Prowl said, giving a quick look over at Jazz who in turn cringed slightly. "From what I've gathered, he doesn't mean anything by it. However, it doesn't change the fact that my proper designation, the one given to me by my carrier, is _**Prowl**_."

"My deepest apologies," the Prime humbly said.

"Get used to it Prowl. You'll find it's futile at times to even shut Jazz up!" Ratchet huffed, making everyone laugh.

"He's always gotta be the center of attention too," Blaster added.

"But in the thick o' it, no bot betta at coverin' yur back then Jazz," Ironhide commented.

"True enough," the Prime smiled, patting the small visored black and white bot on the shoulder. "Still, only a privileged few ever receive a nickname from Jazz. And when he uses it, he has the utmost respect for the mechanism he is talking about."

The young Praxian was at a loss for words. And Jazz could see his friend was once again feeling overwhelmed by his situation and acted accordingly.

"Ah OP, ya makin' me blush!" Jazz joked, making everyone laugh and focus on him to allow Prowl to gather himself.

"The day you actually blush I will reformat myself into a femme!" Ratchet snorted.

"You have no shame whatsoever, Jazz!" Ultra Magnus exclaimed.

"It's true," Jazz commented to Prowl who smiled, finally relaxing a bit. Seeing that as a good sign and with a quick subtle nod, Jazz indicated to his Prime that now would be the best time.

"All right, settle down, mechs," Optimus requested and turned to address the Praxian. Jazz kept a hand on Prowl's shoulder to support his friend. "Informal as this gathering is, the offer I have to make _**is**_ of an official capacity. Prowl, I know words can never express how apologetic I am for the magnitude of the loss you and your fellow Praxians have experienced. I promise you I will do my utmost to see that each survivor is taken care off, given a home, a vocation of their choosing…a chance to live again. Few though you are, you are our teachers, the continued legacy of a people we must never forget. Because if we do, then we have lost more than just a city and its people but ourselves."

"Therefore, Prowl, I wish to offer you a chance to continue to serve and protect. Only the stakes are much higher. The potential for loss of life far greater. However, the camaraderie is as equally strong as amongst those with whom you once served. In short, I extend the offer of you becoming one of us…an Autobot."

"From what I've read of your service record you are a dedicated mech who has earned each one of your commendations. Thus, we can bypass the normal application process and except you into the Autobot ranks. Plus, as the Prime, it is my right to give this to you. But before you decide, please understand, you are under no obligation. Do not feel compelled to accept such a request because I am your Prime. I fully believe that freedom is the right of all sentient beings and that _**you, Prowl,**_ are free to either accept or reject the offer."

Throughout Prime's small speech Jazz could feel the Praxian trembling and see the range of emotions coursing through the mech by how his doorwings were jerkily moving. Then he smiled to himself when he felt the trembling stop and saw how those doorwings once again were held in their proper, regal position. Jazz knew what Prowl's decision was before he even voiced it.

To fully save a single life was a small victory in what was to be a long war.

"I never did say thank you, did I?" Prowl humbly asked Jazz as they walked through the quiet halls after the small party was over.

"Ah told ya, it was Prime's idea."

"No, I never thanked you for saving me."

"Ah was just doin' my job, mech," Jazz smiled.

"Jazz, I know for a fact that mechs like us never just do our job. We go that extra mega mile when we need to. For that, I thank you."

"Yar welcome, Prowler."

"I'm never going to get you to stop calling me that, am I?"

"Nope."

"Well as long as we're off duty I don't mind," Prowl admitted with a sigh, then stopped and looked around. "Tomorrow is going to be different, isn't it?"

"Don't worry, Prowl. Ah'll be there wit' ya every step o' the way 'til the day ya finally outrank me. Even then Ah'll still be yar friend an' will be by yar side."

Prowl laughed, "Me outrank you? I can't imagine that."

"Ah can't imagine what Ratch would look like as a femme but knowin' his skills an' knowin' the kind of mech ya are, Ah know for a fact that anythin' is possible."

"We'll just have to wait and see then, won't we?" Prowl smirked.

"That we will, my friend. That we will."


End file.
